


The Sleepless Mind of Stiles Stilinski

by skargasm



Series: The Sleepless Mind of Stiles Stilinski [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Bad Alpha Talia Hale, Gen, Left Hand Peter Hale, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Minor Chris Argent/Stiles Stilinski, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: The five times Stiles Stilinski couldn’t sleep and the one time he slept perfectly!
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Sleepless Mind of Stiles Stilinski [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782631
Comments: 92
Kudos: 418





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm doing another five plus one! Not sure where this one is going to be honest - I don't think all of the chapters will be as short as the first one!
> 
> * * *

Stiles didn’t like the hush of the cemetery. It wasn’t completely silent – just some sobbing and the priest droning on. But all around him, there is nothing but an unnatural hush. 

He wandered away while his Dad was talking to some people – it’s not like they really notice him apart from to say what a good boy he’s been. They’re all about commiserations, sorry for your loss, it’s a blessing in disguise.

He didn’t wander far – his Dad had told him that they were going back to the house, that people would be coming for the ‘wake’ – he needed to look that up when everyone left, find out what it meant. Still, he’s far enough away that he looked nervously over his shoulder when everything _did_ go silent, the wildlife seems to have abruptly fled. Something is tingling at the edge of his senses, something that tells him there’s a predator nearby.

He turned and found a teenage boy watching him. He didn’t recognise him exactly but he did know that this is one of the Hales, the family that lives in the huge house in the Preserve. His Mom was friends with Talia and kept promising him that she would take him to visit one day. She never did.

“This is where I’m meant to say sorry about your Mom.”

“Oh, okay, thanks. Why are you sorry?” 

“Mainly because if there weren’t so many rules and regulations, she might have been saved.”

“How?”

“Ah, well, that I can’t tell you. Rules and regulations again.” Stiles checks over his shoulder – he doesn’t want his Dad to forget and leave him behind. 

“Do you think she’s scared and alone down there? When they put her into the ground, I mean.”

“What an odd question.” Stiles shrugged, well aware that sometimes people thought he asked odd things. But the boy surprised him by continuing to talk. “No, I don’t think she’s scared. I don’t think she’s there – that’s just her shell. She’s gone where nothing and no one can hurt her. You look surprised.”

“Normally people don’t answer me – or if they do, they lie, like I can’t tell just cos I’m a kid. When I asked my Dad, he just cried.”

“Well, I’ll make you a promise, here and now – I’ll never lie to you, Stiles.”

“You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“It’s Peter.”

“Okay, Peter. We have to shake on it – that’s what happens when you make a deal.” The boy stepped closer and Stiles once again felt that tingling – like sparks throughout his body. Peter tugged his leather glove off with his teeth, spat into his palm and proffered his hand. Stiles looked down at his much smaller hand, spat and they solemnly shook hands. Peter’s eyes flashed blue but before Stiles could ask him about it, he heard his Dad calling. 

That night he didn’t sleep, thinking about the boy with the flashing blue eyes and the shell of his mother lying in the ground.

* * *


	2. The Memories

Stiles knew that if he wanted to go on the school trip to the museum, he needed a parental signature. Sat up in his room in front of his computer, he tried to figure out how to ask his Dad. Things had been difficult since the funeral. People at school have treated him differently – as if they think it’s catching that his Mom died. Other people have just remained pure assholes but at least that’s some consistency in his life.

He kept seeing the Hale boy – Peter. The Hales don’t attend Beacon Hills High School, but he has often seen them around town. It seemed like Peter was always watching him whenever Stiles managed to notice that he is there – flashing his blue eyes as soon as Stiles realised that he had been seen. Stiles had no idea how to cope with how it made him feel – he wasn’t used to being seen. He doesn’t get seen very often – his Dad has fallen too deeply into the bottle to notice that Stiles was still there, that he needed a father. 

Teachers don’t seem able to cope with his never-ending questions, his thirst for knowledge, his **need** to know things – they found him an irritant and a distraction in class. 

Those flashing blue eyes that saw him seemed like – everything. 

He made a friend – Scott McCall. Dark hair, crooked jaw, happy smile and demeanour – the antithesis of Stiles in many ways. He saved him from being bullied by Jackson Whittemore – what kind of ass-hat bullied someone for a medical condition that they had no control over? – and somehow, Scott had stuck around. It was – interesting. Scott had a strong moral code and seemed very into right and wrong. Stiles’ mind didn’t work like that. He allowed Scott to guide him, accepting that while his Dad sorted himself out, Stiles needed to look out for himself. 

He loaded an online game of checkers to occupy his mind while he twisted and turned the issue around. He decided that as it’s a school thing, he should be able to speak to his Dad – no land-mines about his Mom, or jobs, or drinking – he shut down the game and walked downstairs. His Dad wasn’t in the kitchen – the dinner dishes were still on the table, the packaging from the ready-meals they had had to eat still crumpled on the side. With a heavy sigh, Stiles did a quick tidy up – he knew if he left it, they’d get ants like last time, or even worse, rats. 

Satisfied, he crept into the living room. His Dad should have heard him in the kitchen and the fact that he hadn’t come and check on what Stiles was doing was concerning. The living room was in darkness apart from one lamp next to his Dad’s recliner. He could see the half empty bottle of Scotch on the floor next to his Dad’s chair. His Dad was completely unaware of his presence, his eyes glued to the large photo album in his lap. He squinted slightly and could see that it was his parent’s wedding album – a memory of a much happier time. A sound reached his ears, hitting him in the chest like a punch. 

His Dad was crying. 

Grown ups weren’t supposed to cry like that – like there was a hole in their chest and their emotions were bleeding out over everything. He didn’t like how it made him feel seeing his Dad like that. It made him feel small, vulnerable – not safe. If his Dad, who was a Sheriff and in charge of so many people, who solved crime and protected people was crying like that, what could Stiles do? 

That was the first time that Stiles forged his Dad’s signature, completing the parental permission slip with a careful parody of his father’s scrawl. He didn’t sleep that night, planning just how he was going to keep the family going when the only other person he had was falling apart at the seams. 

Then he realised that his Dad wasn’t the only other person he had. He had Peter, with his flashing blue eyes and his constant background presence and his ability to _see_ Stiles when no one else did.

He needed to ask Peter why his eyes were such a bright blue sometime – Stiles knew it symbolised something, could feel that in his gut like a shining spark. And Peter had promised to always tell Stiles the truth.

* * *

He got his chance – the school trip to the museum seemed to coincide with another school. It must do, otherwise why would all of the Hale children be there too? He recognised the three dark-haired kids that were nearer his age – Laura, Cora and Derek – and automatically looked around for Peter. 

Peter was stood leaning against a wall, on the sidelines observing everything. He flashed his eyes at Stiles when he saw him staring, and with a glance to be sure that his teacher wouldn’t notice his disappearance, Stiles made his way over to the older boy.

“Hello, little Stiles.”

“Not so little – I’m nearly up to your shoulder and you’re much older than I am.”

“Fair point.” Peter shifted so that he and Stiles were in a more private position, ensuring that no one could overhear what they were talking about.

“Why do your eyes flash?”

“Rules and regulations – I’ve told you there are some things I can’t tell you.”

“You said you would always tell me the truth – we made a deal on it.”

“We did – and I will. But if I’m given a direct order, it’s hard to work around. Of course, if someone was smart enough to figure it out – “

“So it’s a puzzle? Something I need to work out?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it got anything to do with how it feels when I’m around you? How I always know that you’re there even when I shouldn’t?”

“How does it feel?”

“Like something’s sparking inside.”

“Sparking inside – what excellent terminology. Telling, almost.”

“Don’t patronise me.”

“Big words for a little boy.” Stiles gave a huff of frustration, about to walk away. “Sorry – it’s hard not to be an asshole all of the time. I have to remember you are younger than I – it can be difficult.”

“Difficult is trying to keep things going when your Dad’s a drunk. Not being an asshole to me – not so difficult.”

“So I can continue being an asshole to other people?”

“Why should I care what you do to other people? They’re not my problem – I have enough on my plate without taking on anyone else’s drama.”

“I like how you think.”

“So you can’t tell me _why_ they flash. Can you tell me why they’re a different shade of blue when they flash?”

“Excellent – I knew you would find a way around it.” Peter shifted against the wall, moving slightly closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “They are a different shade of blue when they flash because of something that I’ve done.”

“That’s a shit clue.”

“Should you be cursing?”

“You gonna stop me?”

“No. I just think that you have the brains to not need to curse to get your point of view across. You strike me as an articulate person – why lower yourself to cursing when you can decimate someone with words another way?”

Stiles thought about what Peter was saying. He got into trouble at school for cursing at Jackson Whittemore when it was Jackson who should have got into trouble for what he was doing. Peter’s way meant that he could still make sure Jackson knew how he felt but not get in trouble for it. 

“I like the idea.” Tilting his head, Stiles looked at Peter closely. “Standing this close to you shouldn’t feel safe – should it?”

“You’re safe. Not so much other people.”

“Fair enough.”

“Not shocked?”

“By what? The fact that you’re dangerous? Son of a sheriff here – I’ve been taught to look at people and see past the nice exterior. Stranger danger and all that.” He scoffed slightly, but he remembered a time when his Dad would sit with him and talk to him, tell him ways to keep himself safe, educate him – they had been close. “Do other people in your family have blue eyes that flash?”

“No.”

“Because they haven’t done what you’ve done.”

“Obviously.”

Stiles looked over Peter’s shoulder at where Derek, Cora and Laura were examining an exhibition on mythical creatures with apparent interest. 

“What colour do their eyes flash?”

“Amber. Like the natural colour of your eyes, but a little brighter.”

“And is that the same for the rest of your family? All the people you have living out there in the Preserve – do their eyes all flash amber?”

“Apart from one other person, yes.”

“So, it’s a type of ranking?”

“STILES STILINSKI! Get back here immediately!” The sound of his teacher’s voice made Stiles jump, then he scowled with frustration. He had been getting somewhere – he knew he had.

“Go ahead – I’ll be here. We have plenty of time, Stiles.” Peter gave him a smile then walked over to his nieces and nephew. They left almost immediately and Stiles had the feeling that they hadn’t been at the museum on a school trip, that _maybe_ Peter had been here just to get a chance to talk to Stiles. 

It made being stuck by the teacher’s side for the rest of the visit almost worth it.

* * *


	3. The Sheriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third time Stiles can clearly remember having an awful, sleepless night
> 
> * * *

It was his first kiss. He’d skipped Chemistry – just wasn’t in the mood to deal with Harris and his bullshit – and hid out under the bleachers, reading a book that he’d found in a second-hand book-store. Even with his Dad being as out of it as he was, Stiles wasn’t going to risk him finding a book like this in his room – Stiles wasn’t quite ready to let his Dad know that he liked boys just that little bit more than he liked girls. 

“What are you doing down here, Stilinski?” He looked up, scowling when he saw that it was Jackson. 

“Hiding from assholes – which includes you in case you were wondering. What do you want, Jackson?” Closing the book quickly, Stiles shoved it into his jacket pocket, unwilling to give him more ammunition. He managed to stop himself from flinching when Jackson dropped down beside him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of showing any fear. 

“I’m not sure you’re ready for what I want – Stiles.”

He turned to look at Jackson, brows furrowed in confusion. Jackson _never_ called him by his name. 

“What are you talking about?” Before he could ask any more questions, Jackson was leaning forward and pressing his lips against Stiles’ open mouth, grabbing his face to pull him as close as possible. Spluttering, Stiles pulled away, scrambling backwards on the ground to get away from him. 

“What the hell, Jackson?” Wiping his mouth reflexively, Stiles stared at the other boy accusingly. “You don’t just go around kissing people without asking first – informed consent, asshole!”

“You should consider yourself lucky that I wanted to kiss you!”

“Well, what if I wanted my first kiss to be with someone I actually _liked_?!”

“I like you – well enough.”

“I can’t say the same! You’re not even my type!”

“I’m _everyone’s_ type!” 

“Well, you’re not mine!” Climbing to his feet, Stiles watched warily as Jackson did the same. “How do you even know that I like guys like that?”

“I’ve seen you looking at me after gym!” Jackson stepped forward again and Stiles backed away, coming to a halt with a thump as his back hit one of the poles. Jackson kept advancing until he was standing right in front of Stiles, his face way too close for comfort. “Come on, Stiles – who else do you think is gonna take pity on you and let you get a taste?” Stiles wasn’t even aware of his arm lurching forward as he punched Jackson right in his arrogant face.

* * *

Stiles licked at the blood on his inner lip, feeling the swelling that’s growing there. He could tell that at least one of his teeth had been knocked loose, but he didn’t care. He gave as good as he got – more so, even.

The Principal was trying to pacify D.A.Whittemore, convince him not to sue the school – good luck with that. His Dad was almost as much of an asshole as Jackson. 

“What the hell, Stiles?” He looked up upon hearing his Dad’s voice, wincing inwardly when he realised that the man had been drinking. 

“I didn’t start it!”

“Kiddo – “ The Principal’s door opened and Jackson walked out, throwing himself into the chair next to Stiles. He had an impressive black eye as well as a dark bruise growing on his chin, but his face looked triumphant. Sheriff Stilinski walked into the room after the principal and Jackson instantly turned to Stiles.

“Your Dad is drunk off his ass!”

“Fuck off, Jackson!”

“And my Dad is going to make sure he gets fired! I don’t care if your Mom died – your Dad’s a lousy alcoholic and doesn’t deserve any sympathy! Just wait until my Dad’s got through with – “ This punch was _way_ more satisfying – he got some real swing behind it and the crunch that Jackson’s nose gave was impressive. He didn’t get to enjoy it for long, the shout of the Administrative Assistant bringing both the Sheriff and D.A. Whittemore running out of the office and dragging them apart. 

“See what I mean? The boy is a complete savage! I want him expelled – do you hear me? I will not have my son attacked – “

“He kissed me!” The silence in the room was deafening, everyone turning to face Jackson who for once appeared to be speechless. “I wasn’t going to say anything because you shouldn’t out someone – but – he’s gonna try and get my Dad fired and I’m not sitting back for that! So – yeah. There’s that.”

“Stiles – “

“Jackson – is this true?”

“You’re gonna believe _him_?” 

“Son – “

“I – well, this – um – “

“Did you consent to him kissing you?”

“No! I mean, yeah, I like boys but I don’t like Jackson that way!” Stiles blanched, unable to stop talking. “I wasn’t going to tell you that way, because – well, I haven’t quite decided if I’m gay or bi, but – “

“Okay, Stiles – just – be quiet there a minute, son. Whittemore, Principal – can we go back into your office? There appear to be some circumstances that haven’t quite been taken into account. And boys – 2 metres apart at all times, understand?”

* * *

”You thought he could get me fired?”

“Dad – with the – drinking and missing work and – I just – I didn’t know if he could or not! But – “

“I – I hadn’t realised just how difficult things had been on you, son. And I can only say that I’m sorry. I lost my way when your mother – when she died. And Claudia – she would be so ashamed of me.”

It was so hard to look at his Dad as he spoke but Stiles was riveted nevertheless. His Dad sounded like his Dad again. And for the first time in so long, it felt like things might actually be alright. They stayed up all night talking, finding their way back to each other. They talked about his Mom, about how things had been before she died; about how they both missed her so very much; about how they wanted and needed to be there for each other. It was a horrible, painful sleepless night, but it was worth it – because they slowly began to heal.

And it was even more worth it when the Principal made Jackson apologise to him the next day.

* * *


	4. The Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth significant time Stiles can remember not being able to sleep.
> 
> * * *

“What do you mean, you’re feeling shaky?”

“I just mean – Allison’s my anchor and things between us are – “

“I **know** how things are between you, Scott! I hear about it all day, every day! But – why does that make your anchor shaky? I mean – she’s still around. You guys talk! What are you telling me?”

“Nothing – honestly, Stiles, there’s nothing to worry about.”

Of course, there was something to worry about – Stiles can’t believe that he thought for just one second that there was nothing to worry about! Slamming the basement door behind him, he looked around for something to shove up against it. He could hear Scott rampaging around but fortunately, he wasn’t close. Yet. 

An old chest of drawers was the best thing he could find that he could shift on his own, and getting it in front of the door almost broke his back, but he made it just in time. Scott was slamming himself against the door in an attempt to smash it in, growling and snarling the whole time. Stiles could feel his heart hammering in his chest, a cold sweat breaking out over his body as he considered what a dumb thing he had done. If Scott _did_ manage to break through that door, Stiles had locked himself into a box with no escape. Jesus Christ, he had laughed at enough people in horror movies to know that you didn’t put yourself somewhere you couldn’t get out of. 

Biting at his thumbnail, he walked back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell he could do. The sound of breaking glass behind him made him jump almost a foot in the air, his imagination providing a very clear image of Scott coming at him through one of the slim windows to the basement and clawing him to death. He almost didn’t want to put on the basement light, unwilling to see his death coming up at him from below, but he refused to be a coward about it. Taking a deep breath, he scrabbled for and found the cord, yanking it hard so that the bulb came on.

“Fuck me, Peter, you almost gave me a heart attack!” 

“Serves you right for being stupid enough to shut yourself in down here!”

“Thanks, ass-hat – I happened to be running for my life at the time!” He slapped Peter on the chest, his hand lingering unconsciously. Peter had grown up and filled out a lot in the last few years, and Stiles was honest enough with himself to say that the connection between them wasn’t purely that of trainee emissary and Left Hand – at least from his side. His work with Deaton had revealed a whole new world to him, a world that he had tried extremely hard to keep away from the normals in his life: his Dad, Scott, his friends at school. Unfortunately, they had clashed with a vengeance when Scott had followed him out to the Preserve, wanting to know just what Stiles did out there all the time and got himself bitten by a rogue alpha. 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that McCall’s anchor was the Argent girl?”

“Why would I think it was important?”

“Oh, I don’t know – because the Argents are a murdering bunch of xenophobic assholes, and a young werewolf deprived of his anchor is a danger to everyone! Especially those close to him!”

“Well, no one told me that!”

“What is the use of Deaton as a mentor and trainer if he doesn’t give you important information?”

“And anyway, when would I have had a chance to tell you anything? You’ve been out wooing that Olivia girl – you haven’t been here for my last three training sessions.” As soon as the words were out of Stiles’ mouth, he wished he could take them back. Peter didn’t need any more confirmation that he was irresistible, and would no doubt be taunting Stiles with this forever. 

“Firstly, I **haven’t** been wooing Olivia – I’ve been giving her advice on how to woo _Laura_ , so get your facts straight. And secondly, I assumed that you would prefer to work with Derek.” More slamming against the basement door made Stiles look behind him nervously before turning back to Peter, confused by his statement. 

“What the hell are you talking about? Why would I prefer to work with Derek?”

“Oh come on, Stiles. Your tongue almost rolled out of your head the last time Derek took his shirt off around you at the BBQ last month.” Peter tapped the side of his nose. “Chemo-signals don’t lie.”

“What the – Oh my God, you’re jealous!”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are!”

“What have I got to be jealous of? Just because I mistakenly thought you were more interested in brains than brawn does not mean that I’m jealous.”

Stunned by the implications of what Peter was saying, Stiles could only stand there dumb-founded. Peter thought Stiles was interested in _Derek_! But did that mean that Peter was interested in him?

“Wait a minute – Olivia and Laura?”

“Yes, do try to keep up Stiles.” While he was talking, Peter was grabbing more items of furniture and stacking them against the door. Stiles was vaguely hypnotised watching him do so, the lean muscles in his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, that god-damned neck in his vee-neck shirt. “Stiles – are you still in there?”

He shook his head, forcing himself to pay attention.

“What are the chemo-signals telling you now?”

“That you’re terrified.”

“Is that all that they’re telling you?” Before Peter could answer, there was a particularly hefty thud on the door and despite all of the extra furniture that was piled against it, the sound of the basement door-frame cracking filled Stiles with foreboding. “Peter – is that going to hold him off?”

“I’m not sure. He does seem **extremely** determined to get to you. Are you sure there isn’t more to your relationship with Scott than you’ve been telling me?”

“YES! How many times – Scott isn’t even remotely interested in my boy parts, and I am definitely not interested in his!”

“Then he’s just very possessive over you?”

“What?”

“He warned me away from you. I assume from the look on your face that you knew nothing about it.”

“Well, of course, I didn’t know anything about it – I’m not a chew toy for you guys to argue over! Why would he think warning you Hales away from me was even necessary? We’ve been best buddies forever!”

“No – he specifically warned me away from you, not the pack.”

“Just – you?” Suddenly it seemed that Peter was very close, much closer than he had been before. The distant sound of Scott’s body hitting the door-frame couldn’t distract Stiles from the length of Peter’s eyelashes, the different shades of blue in his eyes, the soft quirk of his mouth as he moved closer. His heart was thumping in his chest for a completely different reason as he tentatively reached up and put his arms around Peter’s neck and tilted his head up, lips parting in anticipation. The crash as the door frame finally gave way jolted them apart and Peter shoved him away, turning to face the enraged, transformed Scott as he barrelled through the door. 

Stiles scurried to get out of the way, hand to his mouth in horror as he watched Scott attack Peter with tooth and claw. Peter’s moves were all defensive and Stiles didn’t understand why as Scott was most definitely out for blood. Then he remembered something Talia had told him about the position of Left Hand: he wasn’t allowed to use undue force on pack-mates without prior permission. Had Peter not told Talia and the others where he was going when he came over? Stiles winced as Scott landed a vicious blow across Peter’s face, sending him staggering back. Scott lunged after Peter and taking advantage of his distraction, Stiles raced through the door and up to his bedroom, searching frantically for his cell. 

Talia was his speed-dial 2 and although he knew she would be busy with the other pack members, he was praying that she would answer.

“Stiles?”

“Scott’s attacking Peter and I – “

“Barricade yourself into your room! I’m on my way!” He desperately wanted to go back downstairs and see if he could be of some assistance, but his powers weren’t stable enough for him to use against Scott safely, and what if he distracted Peter? Surely the older man would be able to hold Scott off long enough for Talia to get here? In a rare show of obedience, he shut his bedroom door and managed to get his chest of drawers in front of it. For good measure, he climbed into his closet and pulled the door almost closed, clutching his cell to his chest. 

It felt like forever before he heard the back door being broken down, then muffled sounds before there was a deathly silence. 

“Stiles? It’s Derek – are you in there?” Creeping out of the closet, he shoved the drawers out of the way and pulled the door open, falling into Derek’s arms. “It’s okay – you’re okay.” 

It was only afterwards that he recalled that Derek held him whilst he sobbed, rubbing his back and muttering words of reassurance. 

“Peter – how’s Peter?”

“Mom’s taken him back to the Den. Don’t worry – he’s not in trouble. He didn’t hurt Scott, managed to stay in control. But – “

“But what?”

“Scott was completely out of control, Stiles. He’s caused quite a bit of damage.”

“Then we need to go – we need to get to your place and – “

“No. Mom told me I should keep you here, keep you safe. There are a few people who are still struggling with the full moon – that’s why you were there tonight, remember?”

Stiles nodded reluctantly, sitting down on his bed abruptly. 

“How soon will we know if he’s okay? I mean – can a beta cause that much damage?”

“Peter may be Left Hand and a bit stronger than most of us apart from Mom but – he’s really hurt, Stiles.” Derek looked at him sympathetically before shrugging out of his leather jacket and sitting down on the bed next to Stiles. “Look, Mom will call as soon as there’s any news. Dad’s fixed the back door and let the Sheriff know what’s happened. How about you settle down and try to get some sleep?”

Even with Derek’s arms wrapped around him and the soft sounds of him snoring behind him, Stiles didn’t sleep all night, wondering just how badly hurt Peter was and if he would fully recover.

* * *


	5. The Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this all seems to have taken a dark turn! I have no idea where this came from but at least I have one more chapter to fix it, right?
> 
> *whoops*
> 
> * * *

“What do you mean, he’s gone?”

Talia looked discomfited but he didn’t have time to consider her comfort. He needed to find Peter. 

“He made an official request of his Alpha and I agreed to it. He did the right thing in the circumstances, I think.”

“What circumstances, what are you talking about?”

Talia gestured to one of the armchairs and Stiles sat down impatiently, hoping his acquiescence would encourage her to speak. They had a cordial relationship, his phone call to her only last night the first time he had initiated the contact. His bonds to the Hale Pack were firmly with Peter, Derek and Scott, not Talia. She hadn’t seemed to have any issue with it, had permitted for him to train properly with Deaton when his Spark manifested itself when he was sixteen. But now he could sense something within her, something that made the spark inside him stir...

“Stiles – I don’t want you to think that I’m judging you. You’re young, you have your whole life ahead of you, and you have the right to explore who you are as a person. Just because Peter has been fixated on you for years – “

“What the hell are you talking about? What choices? Talia – you’re not making any sense at all!”

“Sit down please, Stiles.” Until she made her request, Stiles wasn’t even aware that he’d got to his feet. He almost apologised for what could be seen as rudeness but Talia continued speaking as he sat back down. “Peter _was_ quite hurt during the encounter with Scott, but once we returned here and got him locked up for the night – Scott, not Peter – he insisted on the bare minimum of medical attention because he wanted to get back to you.”

“Okay, so – “

“So, less than an hour after he left, he returned and requested permission for an indefinite leave of absence from his responsibilities here in Beacon Hills.”

“But – why? If, as you say, he’s fixated on me – then why would he leave?”

“Stiles – Peter told me that you were with Derek.” Stiles nodded, not understanding what she was trying to say. “As in – _with_ Derek. He returned to your house and found you and Derek sleeping together.”

“I don’t know about sleep, but yeah we were on the bed. Derek was trying to comfort me because I damned near had a panic attack at the thought of Peter being hurt. I don’t understand why – “

“He thought you and Derek were together in a partner type of way. That, and he felt that given his age and – past – that Derek might be a better choice for you. You’re a Spark and a very powerful one. You could have your choice from a variety of Packs – why would you settle for a Left Hand who had blues eyes before he was even sixteen years of age? To him, it made little sense. And – to be honest, I agree with him.”

“But – what do you mean? I could do better? Peter is almost all I’ve ever wanted – why would you think that I would – you think Derek and I were – no, _Peter_ has some crazy notion in his head that Derek is a better match for me so he just **walks** out! And I presume I’m just supposed to bend over to be mounted by the next available Hale?”

“STILES! There is no need to be coarse!”

“There’s every fucking need! I am sick to death of people deciding that they know what’s best for me! Derek is my friend – he has been a very good friend, but that’s all he’ll ever be. And as for me being a powerful Spark – I can’t control my powers most of the damned time so I’m a fat lot of good for anything at the moment! I can’t believe you people – you think you can just make decisions and they’re accepted as Holy Writ!”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Then tell me what it was like!” Stiles could feel his spark ignite as his temper overcame his control, his eyes feeling hot.

“The position of Left Hand is a dangerous one – as a Spark, you need to be grounded, be with someone who doesn’t arouse your passions and cause you to lose control. It was felt that it would be for the best if you and Peter didn’t – your eyes – Stiles – your eyes have gone white! You need to regain control and you need to do it now!” Talia’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way away, the power surging through his veins whispering and enticing him to let it all flow, to **show** them that they couldn’t try to control him. “LAURA! Get Deaton – tell him to bring the venom and to do it quickly! Derek, hold him down!”

“He’s too strong – this is fucking impossible!” He bucked, trying to get whatever it was holding him down off so that he could go after Peter, could explain – 

“Cora – “

“Talia, do you think – “

“We’re not calling him! Remember – this is for the good of the Pack! Peter never needs to know about any of this. Just – help us keep him still until Deaton can get here.”

“But – the way he and the boy feel about each other – “

“NO!” He was burning alive from the inside-out, couldn’t stand the way his body was feeling. It was like holding onto a scream, his chest tight, his entire body arched and struggling as he tried to get free. He needed to get out, needed to find – “We are doing this **for** Stiles! He needs to know that there are options other than Peter. Our Pack – Satomi’s – “

“But that isn’t what Stiles wants!” That was Derek’s voice and a small part of Stiles was grateful and relieved that Derek wasn’t a part of this betrayal. How dare they think they should make the choices for him, should be able to tell him who to love, who belonged to and with him?

“Sometimes what we want isn’t good for us!”

“Mom – you don’t get to – “

“Derek, as your Alpha I am telling you to keep that boy in place!”

“What the hell are you doing to my son?”

“It’s not what it looks like, Sheriff! We did explain to you that Stiles’ is extremely powerful. He’s struggling to contain his power at the moment – we’re trying – “

“What’s he saying?” That was his father’s voice, his familiar hands holding onto Stiles – taking him somewhere safe? “Why does he keep muttering Peter’s name?”

“Peter had to leave.”

“But I thought he and Stiles – will someone _please_ tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Peter and Stiles have a bond that **needs** to be broken! It’s too dangerous for Stiles at this age – he needs time to train, to learn and that wouldn’t have happened if he had completed the bond with Peter.”

“Then why in heaven is he screaming like he’s being tortured?”

“It’s not supposed to be this intense – they must have almost completed the bond for it to be this strong – “

“Talia, I would appreciate it if you would tell me what is happening to my son, right now, or I am taking him out of here and to hell with all of you and this supernatural shit-show!”

“Mom, if Stiles is going through this – does that mean Uncle Peter – “

“He’ll come back – he has to! If he’s feeling this – this _bond_ the same way as Stiles is, there’s no way he **won’t** come back!”

“He won’t be back.” Talia’s voice sounded final and Stiles wondered how she could be so sure. If Peter was feeling even one-tenth of this – “Look, I sent Peter away! I told him that Derek had asked permission to court Stiles as a Spark to become an official member of the Pack! It’s for the best – Peter’s position isn’t safe and secure! We can’t risk a Spark being the partner of the Left Hand – my God, they would be unstoppable! That kind of power around a Nemeton – we would be constantly under attack – “

“If you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me – that you split these two up – “

“Thank God, Deaton!” A sharp stab and he couldn’t fight any longer, his body going numb, his voice fading away. Trapped within his body, Stiles could feel the kanima venom doing its work, freezing him in place with only the almost otherworldly maze of his mind to escape into. 

He heard the argument between his father and Talia from a great distance; could feel Derek’s presence like a golden thread attached to his chest; could feel Scott raging and growling locked up further away in the house; could feel the calling of the territory in a way Deaton had never managed to convey to him. The feelings faded, a glass wall of pain growing within him until he was locked behind it with his father, his friends, his lover – all of them locked away on the other side. 

That night, as his mind shattered and rebuilt itself, he lay awake. The kanima venom wore off, but he was still unable to move. The only thoughts going through his broken mind were that Peter wasn’t coming back – that Stiles was all alone – that Peter wasn’t coming back –

* * *


	6. The One Time He Slept Perfectly

”He’s dying by inches.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Alan. He’s absolutely fine.” Talia took a long sip from her champagne flute, looking around at the gathering with a pleased expression. 

“I’m not being melodramatic, Talia. When I did as you requested – assisted you in facilitating – _things_ – I did warn you that it might affect his relationship with the Nemeton. And if the Spark dies out – “

“Don’t threaten me, Alan. And we don’t discuss that entire situation – something only remains a secret as soon as it’s discussed. Or something like that.” She turned to face Alan and he could see the signs of age on her face. The last six years had not been easy for any of them, but the added toll of bearing such a secret showed on Talia’s face. “Oh look, there’s Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa – I’m so glad they could make it. Do excuse me.”

* * *

Peter slammed the door on the Ford Colby and turned to look at the house. It had been almost impossible to get a parking space – the party seemed to have a large number of guests in attendance, the house lit up like a Christmas tree. He shrugged – Talia liked to display her affluence and hosting a huge party was the least of it. He hadn’t been here in so long, it felt strange to be walking up to the front door, but he was looking forward to seeing his nieces and nephew, as well as the other members of the Pack. Generally speaking, he was kept busy away from Beacon Hills, so there were actually some members of the Pack he hadn’t met. He wondered if Talia had added to it since he was last here. 

Pushing open the door, he felt the magic at the barrier and commended the magic worker responsible. No one with ill intent would be able to cross the threshold, not without significantly weakening themselves. It was delicate, intricate work – only someone with magic of their own would be able to feel it. Clever, very clever – he looked forward to meeting whoever had done it.

* * *

”I hate these things,” Stiles muttered to Chris, draining his glass of champagne and neatly catching one of the servers walking around and grabbing a replacement. “I never feel like I belong at them.”

“Sweetheart, we don’t have to stay long. And you know it’s necessary – we show our faces and the other Packs know that Talia and the Argents are maintaining their truce. It’s a show of force from both sides – and since you’re _on_ both sides, you most definitely belong here.”

Smiling softly, Stiles leaned over and placed a kiss on Chris’s chin as a reward. The other man had had to listen to him bitching and moaning about attending the party for the last week – the least Stiles could do was offer him some sign of affection. He looked up at Chris, his mind once again twisting around and over just why he couldn’t feel more than this – weak interpretation of love – for the man. Chris was gorgeous, the trim beard suiting the shape of his face, his eyes a piercing shade of blue. Sometimes Stiles found himself surprised by the shade of blue that they were, almost as though he was expecting a different shade. Other times – with werewolves he had encountered through his work with the Hales – he found himself momentarily stunned by flashing blue eyes, which made little to no sense. As a Protector for the territory, he should be used to the flashing blue that symbolised a werewolf had taken a life and felt guilty over it – rogues were often attracted to the area, and he had met more than a few in his time. 

Chris took advantage, turning to catch Stiles’ lips with his own, deepening the kiss to where Stiles was able to get out of his own head and simply enjoy the sensations. He forced himself to stop thinking about flashing blue eyes, opening to Chris’s questing tongue and turning more fully into the embrace.

“Well, I was about to say hello Chris, but you appear to be somewhat distracted!” The smooth, slightly taunting voice drew Stiles’ attention immediately, and he pulled back from Chris to turn to face the speaker. Flashing blue eyes met his own and for the first time in years, he felt his control over his spark slip, his own eyes sparkling white for a moment. A sharp pain seemed to pierce the base of his neck and fly to his brain, making him cry out just before he fainted.

* * *

”You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

“I didn’t realise I needed an invitation! Who was that? Was he one of the new members of the Pack?” Peter followed Talia into the study and watching as she walked quickly over to the drinks cabinet. He wasn’t surprised she needed a drink – having a guest pass out at your party was bound to fray the nerves a little.

“Of course you don’t need an invitation – don’t be churlish, Peter.” Talia turned away from him to pour herself a drink and Peter noticed his sister’s hand was shaking. “That was – Miecszylaw – he assists Deaton with the security around the territory.”

“Ah, is Deaton getting too old to take care of it himself? How come I’ve never met this person before?”

“I don’t know! I guess the few times you’ve been home haven’t coincided with his being here.”

“Does he live at the Den? Or with Chris? What happened to Victoria?”

“All of these questions – dear me – I would have thought you would want to relax after your journey. When did you get back from Peru?”

“Is he alright?”

“Yes, yes – he’s fine. Chris took him up to Derek’s room, I believe.” Knocking back her drink in one go, Talia gave a smile and reached out to put her arm through Peter’s. “Now, why don’t you tell me all about Peru while I get you some food. You must be starving.” Peter allowed himself to be led to the kitchen, his eyes straying to the staircase that led to the bedrooms as they moved past them.

* * *

“Do you want me to get Melissa, Stiles? Or perhaps Deaton?” Chris hovered by the bed, a look of concern on his face. 

“Yeah, would you get my Dad for me, please. He’s the only person who can ground me properly.” Stiles turned to Derek who was sat next to the bed, looking worried. “Stop looking like such a sour-wolf – I’m fine! Here – let me get my stink all over your bed just so you’ve got something to entertain yourself with later!”

“Ew, no thanks Stiles!” Derek laughed.

“So – who was that?” 

“That was my uncle Peter. He’s the Pack’s Left Hand but he prefers to travel rather than stay at the den.”

“Oh right – I wonder why I’ve never met him before. And there’s no pictures of him in that gallery your Mom calls a study. How come?”

“He prefers to travel rather than stay at the den.”

“Yeah, you said that Big Guy. How come he’s back?”

“I think he prefers to travel rather than stay at the den.” Stiles’ head spun to face Derek, tilting to the side as he considered his friend.

“Derek – what else can you tell me about your uncle Peter?”

“He’s the Left Hand of the Pack. He prefers to travel rather than stay at the den.” Derek’s gaze went hazy for just a few seconds as he spoke. “I – “

“Can you remember anything else about him?”

“Actually, Stiles, I’m getting a bit of a headache. I think I might have had a little too much of the wolfsbane champagne. Will you be okay if I just go for a run – try to get it out of my system faster?” Derek did look a bit grey and pained, an expression Stiles wasn’t used to seeing. He spread out the tendrils of his magic to see if there was any danger but he couldn’t feel anything suspicious. Apart from the fact that Derek couldn’t seem to remember anything about his uncle.

“No, you go. I’m good here! Just gonna roll around a bit – “

“Ew, no thanks Stiles!” Derek disappeared to the bathroom to get changed and Stiles sat back against the pillows to wait for his Dad, wondering a little about the mystery surrounding Derek’s Uncle Peter.

* * *


	7. The Sleepless Mind of Stiles Stilinski - The Secrets Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I honestly thought this was the last bit! Somehow, the +1 part of five +1 is turning out to be longer than all the other chapters put together! Sorry!
> 
> * * *

Stiles looked down at himself. His sleep pants were dirty and torn, twigs and leaves sticking to them in various places. His feet were bare, his toes digging into the soft earth. He looked up, unsurprised to see that the moon appeared to be covered in blood. He heard a sound beside him and he turned his head. A large black wolf had walked up to his side, its eyes flashing blue when he met its gaze. He reached out a hand as the wolf stepped closer, knowing if he could just touch it – 

“STILES! Jesus, that must have been _some_ nightmare!” Chris got out of the bed and went to the bathroom, returning with a cloth soaked in hot water. “Here, let’s wipe you down – you’re covered in sweat. Do you remember what it was about?”

“No – no clue.” Still half asleep, Stiles vaguely registered Chris cleaning him up before returning to the bed. He turned into the warm embrace, resting his head over the reassuring thump-thump of Chris’s heart beating.

* * *

Peter jerked awake, leaping from the bed ready for an attack. He couldn’t remember the dream properly but it had been a real humdinger if it had him waking up covered in sweat and ready to fight. He had a vague memory of a hand reaching for him, the long, elegant fingers straining to make contact but there was nothing else there when he tried to remember more. 

Shaking his head at his own weird imaginings, he headed to his bathroom for a shower – he felt itchy and out of sorts and maybe the water would help clear his head.

* * *

“Just what the hell was that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well, you better find out!”

“Talia – have you considered that maybe it would be better to come clean now? I wasn’t exaggerating when I told you that Stiles is unwell. The Nemeton may be a huge source of power but it is also quite a burden. A Spark with a bond to a Nemeton requires careful grounding.”

“I am aware.” Her snappish tone made Alan bristle but he tried to remain calm. 

“Then you should also be aware of the fact that Stiles’ relationship with Chris Argent isn’t proving to be enough of an anchor to help him. And his father cannot continue to ground him – it requires a person of a supernatural persuasion to be able to withstand the pressure.”

“And what do you suggest we do? Just gather them all together and tell them the truth?”

“Perhaps.”

“Screw you, Alan!”

“I’m merely suggesting that things already appear to be unravelling. You have managed to keep Peter and Stiles apart all of these years but that plan has now failed. Wouldn’t it be better to cut your losses now, let them all know what happened and your reasons behind it – “

“You were involved as well!”

“I was. And I can admit to myself now that the draw of being close to a Spark connected to a Nemeton was a temptation that I failed to resist. But it’s because of that that I can see that we have caused more damage than good. I have spoken to some of my fellow druids – “

“What? We agreed to keep this quiet – “

“Talia – the Nemeton is revolting. And in doing so, it is putting Stiles’ health at even greater risk. With Peter being back in Beacon Hills – with the bond that the two share – we could stop this in its tracks before it all goes badly wrong.”

“Do you really think that they’ll understand? That they won’t take issue with us messing with their memories? At the very least, you’ll be kicked out as Pack Emissary – what would you do then?”

“I am content to bear the consequences.”

“Alan – “

“Just think about it – but don’t think too long. I don’t think that even alpha’s claws and Lethe's bramble are enough to combat the strength of the Nemeton if it is determined to see the Left Hand and Spark together.”

* * *

“So how has life been treating you?” Peter watched as Derek placed his plate onto the table then sat down opposite him. 

“Not bad, actually. I’m working for the Sheriff’s department as a consultant. Having Sheriff Stilinski knowing about stuff has meant we’re able to keep a lid on supernatural stuff and help him clear some things up.” Derek began to eat with gusto. “How about you? Where were you this time?”

“Peru. And I’m fine – being Left Hand agrees with me.” Peter smiled at Derek’s smirk. “It’s not all blood and guts, you know. There’s a fair amount of negotiating and refereeing involved. It keeps me busy.”

“I know – Mom said that you preferred to travel rather than stay at the den. It’s a shame because I’ve missed having you around.”

“I wouldn’t say that I prefer to stay somewhere other than the den – I just – I needed the space I suppose.” Peter frowned because he couldn’t recall deciding to travel extensively. However much he enjoyed his position, he had always felt a tight connection to Beacon Hills – it seemed strange to choose to be away from it so much. “Can I ask you about your friend, Mieczyslaw? He seemed unwell?”

“God, Uncle Peter, no one calls him that! In fact, if he heard you use that name he might turn you into a frog!”

“Your mother told me that was his name.”

“Yeah, I can see Mom being all formal about it.”

“So, how is he? And how long have he and Chris been together? Your mother didn’t get around to filling me in on it all yesterday.”

“Why, are you interested in Chris?”

“Derek – “

“Victoria left him when he made the truce with Mom. He and Stiles started dating about two years ago.”

“Hmm. And are they serious?”

“Why do you want to know?” Derek put down his knife and fork. “Uncle Peter – Stiles hasn’t had a lot of happiness in his life. He lost his Mom at an early age; things with his Dad were rough for a while. Finding out he was a spark was the beginning of things getting better but – if you want to know all of this so you can make a move on Chris, then could you maybe just not?”

“Stiles?” There was a roaring in his ears and Peter could barely hear the rest of what Derek was saying. Images were flowing through his mind faster than he could keep track of: a small boy in an ill-fitting black suit, spitting into his palm and shaking hands; slightly older, facing Peter and not caring about his blue eyes; late teens, shaking with fright but reeking of need and desire as he looked into Peter’s face, arms looping around his neck as they leaned towards each other – 

“Peter! Uncle Peter – where are you going?”

* * *

He wasn’t even sure why he was visiting the Nemeton. Normally, he only visited with Deaton to pay their respects. The Druid had cautioned Stiles against visiting the tree too often – there were tales of druids who fell under its influence and were never seen again; of others that were found, drunk on the power the Nemeton exuded, lost to the real world as they literally drowned in knowledge. That was if the Nemeton would even reveal itself to him – he was weak for a Spark and sometimes struggled with feeling his magic, which in turn meant that he couldn’t use it effectively.

He looked up, surprised to realise that while he had been thinking, his feet had led him unerringly to the small clearing that the Nemeton lay within. It had never been this easy before, even with Deaton. He walked forward cautiously, coming to a halt at the base of the tree. Where the tree had been brutally lopped down, numerous saplings were growing rapidly, far more rapidly than was normal. Concerned, Stiles was about to grab his cell from his backpack to call Deaton when he heard soft footfalls coming in his direction. He couldn’t decide whether he should stay put or try to hide, but it was too late to decide the form of a man walked out of the trees, their shade preventing his identity being visible. 

As he stepped closer, Stiles felt a sharp pain in his head and he cried out, closing his eyes and bending over in an attempt to ease the pressure. It felt like his brain was trying to explode, far worse than any of the previous ‘magic’ headaches that had troubled him for years. It was as if a wall of glass was breaking, shards flying through his mind, slicing through memories as they did so. The pain was excruciating and he fell backwards, the breath knocked out of him as he landed on the ground. He writhed in pain, screaming as the attack on his senses continued, desperate to find a way to make it end. 

He felt hands touching him, pulling him up into a seated position, then the warmth of breath against his face as a voice whispered “Stiles.”

* * *


	8. The Never-ending Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing - no explanation, nothing - they just won't let me finish!
> 
> * * *

It was frantic, gentle, hard, soft.

It was wonderment, longing, desire, need.

It was hard hands pulling at his clothes; the roughness of stubble down his neck as he grabbed at hair that was just a shy too short for him to hold; being able to finally bite and suck at the strong neck that had always grabbed his attention; hearing moans and growls as they learned each other’s bodies; feeling the heat of an at once unfamiliar but so well known body lying on top of him; wrapping his legs around slim hips as they ground against each other. 

“Peter – “

“Yes – say my name again – “

“Peter – “

“Jesus, Stiles – how did we lose this?” There wasn’t time for more words, just the need to dig his hands into the muscles of Peter’s back as the hot, slick slide back and forth became too much to bear.

* * *

“Shit!”

“Wasn’t quite what I thought you would say!”

“Chris – I need to talk to Chris!”

“And again, not the words I was hoping to hear.”

“Don’t be facetious, Peter. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“Let’s be frank, Stiles, none of us deserved this.” Stiles looked up into Peter’s face as he leaned over him, a softness to his expression belying the hardness of his tone.

“That means you think you know what happened.”

“I can imagine – or surmise.”

“Are you going to fill me in or leave me wondering?”

“What do you remember?”

“It’s all a bit vague, to be honest. I remember you – I remember how I felt about you – I remember pain and fear and loss and then – numbness. For the longest time, all I’ve felt is numb.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Peter fell back to lie next to him on the ground. “I think Talia and Deaton may have messed with our memories.”

“What the hell – why?” Sitting up, Stiles wriggled his way back into his jeans, ignoring the now cold wetness on his stomach. 

“I think she – they – were worried about you.”

Stiles snorted sarcastically. “So they took our memories because they were _worried_ about me?” 

“Well, worried about you and what you were capable of, specially bonded to a Left Hand.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are linked to the Nemeton – in fact, I believe Deaton described you once as one of the most powerful Sparks in the United States.”

“That’s bullshit! I can barely do anything at all – my magic is so weak I always have to work with someone else to achieve even the most basic things.”

“Stiles – can you feel the Nemeton?” Scowling, nevertheless, Stiles closed his eyes and reached out of the Nemeton, expecting to feel the same weak echo that he always experienced. Instead, his mind was flooded with imagery and knowledge – the past, the present, possible futures all flowed from the Nemeton to him. He could _see_ the moment Talia and Deaton decided on a course of action; could see what _might_ have happened if they had let things move along their natural course of events; he could see the twining threads of his Pack ties – Derek, Scott, Cora, Laura, his Dad, Melissa and running throughout all of that was the Nemeton and Peter. Always together, always a formidable team. He saw fights from the past that should have gone differently; he saw fights in the future where just their presence prevented deaths; he saw clearly for the first time in six years. 

And he was enraged.

* * *

The door blew in, smashed to smithereens and Deaton reared backwards. He tried to reach for his defensive magic but before he could even think of a spell, Peter Hale strolled into his office. 

“How – “

“Oh, that wasn’t me.” Peter looked smug and angry at the same time and Deaton knew that his fears had been justified. As he watched, Stiles strode through the door. He fairly shone with the power inside him, his eyes glowing an eerie white as he came to a stop at Peter’s side. “You have three minutes – truth and nothing but the truth or I let Stiles do whatever he wants and I’ll help him with his conscience afterwards.”

“You’re looking for a crystal, approximately the size of a fist. I believe Talia keeps it on the desk in her study. It would be advantageous if you destroyed it with all affected persons in the vicinity – the effect can be disorientating and painful.”

“How many people? How many of us did you mind-rape in the name of power?”

“I didn’t – “

“Save the excuses. I know how the Druid faith works, Deaton. Your purpose is to maintain the balance without interfering unduly. This was above and beyond what you should have done and you know it. As does Marin.”

“You called Marin?” At the mention of his sister, Deaton realised that things were far worse than he had ever imagined or feared. 

“She is on her way. You will answer for your crimes – but in the meantime, I need to rectify a wrong-doing.”

Deaton thought quickly, unable to hold back a look of fright when Stiles took a menacing step forward. 

“The Sheriff, Scott, Derek, Laura, Cora, Stiles and yourself.”

“Anyone else? Chris?”

“Chris wasn’t around at the time – he knew none of this. His relationship with Stiles has been an honest one.” Deaton considered Stiles. “But not a wholly satisfying one – there was no way Chris could ground a Spark such as you are, Stiles. And for that, I owe you a heartfelt apology. For the lies I told, for how I have held you back and used your power – there are no words. Whatever you choose to do to me would be justified and I will accept your judgement.”

“Keep your words. You are banished as Emissary for the Hale Pack – you will never hold such a trusted position again.”

“You can’t – “

“Oh, but I can. Because I intend that by the end of the night, there will be a trustworthy Alpha to the Hale Pack if I have to use all of the power of the Nemeton to do so.”

* * *

”You have three hours to make your peace with Chris. I understand and accept that he was a part of your life but no longer. And Stiles – I better not scent him any closer than a goodbye hug. Are we clear?”

Stiles turned to look at Peter, his eyes wavering between white and their natural amber. 

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. I’m merely letting you know that I don’t share. You may not have all of your memories back yet, but you have no idea just how long I have been waiting for you to be mine. And I won’t wait another day. So – do what you need to do. I’ll see you at the Den this evening.”

“The others – “

“I’ll call them and arrange for them all to be present. I know how much it means to you that you haven’t been living a complete lie with the Pack. I do have one thing to ask?”

“What’s that?”

“You said you’re going to replace Talia.”

“I did.”

“Are you going to tell me with whom? Because I know it certainly isn’t me. There are certain traits required of a Left Hand that are less than desirable in an Alpha.”

Stiles walked over to Peter, resting his hand on his chest over his heart.

“There is nothing you could say or do that would make you less in my eyes. But no – you’re not my choice for Alpha. For purely selfish reasons – I need you, as does the Nemeton – and **we** do not share.”

* * *

”I didn’t call this meeting so I can’t tell you what it’s about.”

Talia looked around the room, taking in who had been invited to the impromptu meeting. 

The Sheriff was there and had brought Melissa; Derek, Laura, Cora and Scott were also present. It sent a chill down her spine, only the absence of Deaton allaying any of her fears.

“So pleased you could all make it.” Peter walked into the room with an arrogant swagger, his tone of voice challenging.

“Peter – what is the meaning of this?”

“Are you aware that there are ways to remove memories from people? And not always using Alpha claws, although I believe that’s what you used on me, wasn’t it Talia? There wasn’t time to do the big spell, so you simply dug your claws into the back of my neck and gouged out all of my time, my feelings, my emotions from a huge portion of my life.”

“Peter – “

“You were afraid and instead of talking to me, instead of giving me the chance to decide for myself, you – you risked _crippling_ me and effectively crippled Stiles because you wanted the power to remain controlled! And did it stop the Nemeton being a beacon? Or have you been fighting off more and more werewolves, wendigo, _vampires_ who all felt the calling of a hobbled Nemeton begging for freedom?”

“Mom, what’s he talking about?”

“Talia – “

“Six years ago, Scott was having issues with his transformation and he attacked Stiles.”

“I would never – “

“I was concerned enough to go around to the Stilinski residence without my Alpha’s permission. Stiles and I almost completed a soul-bond but were interrupted by Scott. I was injured in the confrontation – as you know, as Left Hand I cannot harm a pack-mate without alpha permission without facing heavy penalties. Otherwise, believe me, Mr McCall, the outcome would have been _very_ different.”

“You will stop speaking at once!”

“Stiles contacted Talia and the members of the Pack who were able came to assist. Scott and I were brought back to the den – to be contained and for medical assistance. Derek remained behind with Stiles as he suffered a panic attack due to the events.”

“Peter, Alan has made this sound – “

“Uncle Peter didn’t mention Deaton!” Derek stated clearly and everyone turned to Talia. 

“You don’t understand – “

“Once I was healed, I returned to check on Stiles. I was – _dismayed_ to find Derek comforting Stiles in his bedroom.”

“Wait a minute, Stiles and I would – have – never – “

“I know that. But it gave me pause – I know the Sheriff was concerned about the age difference and the issues my position in the Pack might cause concerning Stiles’ safety. I came to speak to my Alpha, to get some reassurance.”

“And instead, she roofied him, dug her claws into his neck, and stole his memories of me – of what we meant to each other – of what we _could_ mean to each other.” Stiles strode into the room confidently, his gaze laser-sharp on Talia. “Then implanted the alpha order that he preferred not to be at the Den, that doing his duties as Left Hand meant travelling. Basically, she condemned him to the life of an Omega wolf with the added benefit of being able to keep using him. Right, Talia?”

“Mother – please say this isn’t the truth – “

“Stiles – “ Stiles looked like some kind of vengeful angel, his eyes glowing white, his face a twisted mask of anger and pain. It was a stark look at what she had caused over the last six years and Talia felt a stab of remorse. This had never been her intention – she had simply wanted to look after the Pack to the best of her ability, the way she had been taught. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Peter had gone to her desk while she had been distracted by Stiles and she watched with horror as he grabbed the crystal paperweight that she kept close by at all times. “Peter – NO!” 

Peter raised his arm and dashed it to the ground with all of his strength. As it shattered, the magic backlash washed over the entire room, knocking everyone off their feet and crashing to the ground where they all lay unconscious.

* * *


	9. Finally

”How was she?”

“No change.” Derek sat down next to Laura and took her hand. She always found it difficult visiting their mother in Eichen House, her catatonic state something Laura couldn’t seem to get over. 

The magical backlash from releasing their memories had struck Talia mentally in a way wholly unexpected. The doctors were all baffled – she was physically fine, but all of her mental faculties seemed to have completely shut down. 

Amidst the mess of people returning to consciousness with their memories intact, it had taken some time before they realised that something was wrong with Talia. She lay unresponsive to any stimulus whatsoever but was alive. What made everything even more confusing was that upon awakening, Laura had the alpha eyes – that should not have been possible whilst Talia was alive. 

After three months, it was agreed that placing her in Eichen House was for the best. They couldn’t leave her into a normal hospital just in case she surfaced and revealed her werewolf nature; keeping her at the Den was unacceptable as it was insulting to Peter and Stiles and all that they had suffered and lost because of her; finding out about her betrayal meant that none of their allied wolf packs would accept her either. 

There was a period of readjustment for everyone. Fortunately, despite the situation regarding his relationship with Stiles, Chris Argent remained happy to stick to the truce. There was some gossip regarding his friendship with Isaac, but as the young beta seemed more than happy, no one interfered.

Scott and Stiles found their way back to being true friends again. There had been a distance between them during the last six years that neither could explain – the return of their memories helped them pull things together. They stood up with their parents when Noah and Melissa got married and it was a joyous occasion. 

The Nemeton and the territory were flourishing. Attacks on Beacon Hills dwindled as the Pack found it’s footing, a fully-powered Spark providing the balance the Nemeton seemed to need. The relationship between Peter and Stiles was tempestuous – Stiles seemed to have regained his mischievous nature and delighted in arguing and bantering with Peter, with mixed results. Peter initially struggled with Pack life, having become used to being alone but as his relationship with Stiles settled down, and there were no ill effects from the spell that had taken six years of his life away from him, he relaxed and became happier. 

There was no direct correlation between Peter relaxing and becoming happier and the disappearance of Deaton. Deaton’s sister, Marin Morrell, visited Peter and explained that she would be taking over Deaton’s duties in Beacon Hills, but as the Hale Pack had their own spark they would not need the services of a Pack Emissary. 

“Did you see the picture from Uncle Peter?”

“No – did he send it to all of us?” Derek pulled his cell out of his pocket and found the picture to show his sister. Stiles and Peter had taken an overnight flight to Japan – ostensibly on Pack business, but everyone accepted that it was more of an unofficial honeymoon. Neither of them wanted a huge ceremony, and it was the general opinion that they would return with wedding rings. The picture was a selfie Peter had taken of himself and Stiles on the plane. Stiles was sound asleep with his head on Peter’s shoulder and if you looked closely, a thin line of drool was falling from the corner of Stiles’ mouth. Peter had labelled the picture ‘a perfect night’s sleep for _some_ people’.

[ ](https://imgur.com/vt6eK91)

* * *

Laura laughed a little tearfully when she looked at the picture, and Derek pulled his sister into his arms and hugged her. 

“Come on – Cora’s baking cookies and if we hurry, we can have a laugh at her attempts to be all domesticated!” With a nod, Laura allowed Derek to help her to her feet and they made their way back into the house.

* * *

Frozen within her body, Talia Hale mentally screamed and screamed, just as she had been doing since the karmic backlash of her actions struck her over and over again, forcing her to endure the pain and suffering she had inflicted on her Pack sevenfold.

* * *

**fin**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I admit that I haven't really and truly stuck to the whole premise of five + 1 on this story - that last 'part' kinda went on for a few thousands words! But, I hope you enjoyed the story.
> 
> Thank you for taking this chance on a WiP, once again, but specifically to Mephistopholes for making me laugh in a week where I didn't crack a smile due to RL, and to Readingrainbowz for taking the time to write such insightful comments. I appreciate you both, so much.
> 
> Tomorrow is another day and potentially a start to my next WiP. But in the meantime:  
> Stay Safe  
> Stay Well  
> Stay Kind
> 
> Skar  
> x
> 
> * * *


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